of calm internal debauch,
which does not, let us hope and pray, exist in England. Hearken to M.
de Gustan, and his smirking whispers, about the Duchess of San
Severino, who pour son bonheur particulier, &c. &c. Listen to Monsieur
Dambergeac's friend's remonstrances concerning pauvre Juliette who grew
sick at the smell of a pipe; to his naive admiration at the fact that
the sous-prefet goes to church: and we may set down, as axioms, that
religion is so uncommon among the Parisians, as to awaken the surprise
of all candid observers; that gallantry is so common as to create no
remark, and to be considered as a matter of course. With us, at least,
the converse of the proposition prevails: it is the man professing
irreligion who would be remarked and reprehended in England; and, if the
second-named vice exists, at any rate, it adopts the decency of
secrecy and is not made patent and notorious to all the world. A French
gentleman thinks no more of proclaiming that he has a mistress than that
he has a tailor; and one lives the time of Boccaccio over again, in the
thousand and one French novels which depict society in that country.

For instance, here are before us a few specimens (do not, madam, be
alarmed, you can skip the sentence if you like,) to be found in as many
admirable witty tales, by the before-lauded Monsieur de Bernard. He is
more remarkable than any other French author, to our notion, for writing
like a gentleman: there is ease, grace and ton, in his style, which, if
we judge aright, cannot be discovered in Balzac, or Soulie, or Dumas. We
have then--"Gerfaut," a novel: a lovely creature is married to a brave,
haughty, Alsacian nobleman, who allows her to spend her winters at
Paris, he remaining on his terres, cultivating, carousing, and hunting
the boar. The lovely-creature meets the fascinating Gerfaut at Paris;
instantly the latter makes love to her; a duel takes place: baron
killed; wife throws herself out of window; Gerfaut plunges into
dissipation; and so the tale ends.

Next: "La Femme de Quarante Ans," a capital tale, full of exquisite fun
and sparkling satire: La femme de quarante ans has a husband and THREE
lovers; all of whom find out their mutual connection one starry night;
for the lady of forty is of a romantic poetical turn, and has given her
three admirers A STAR APIECE; saying to one and the other, "Alphonse,
when yon pale orb rises in heaven, think of me;" "Isadore, when that
bright planet spar